Falling Into Darkness
by Lyta Padfoot
Summary: On permanent hiatus. Tom Riddle's first steps toward becoming Voldemort.
1. The Beginning

****

"Falling Into Darkness"  
_Chapter One: The Beginning_

The orphanage was always stiflingly hot in the summer: its poor design seemed to ensnare the cold in the winter and trap the heat in summer. Most of the staff and the children did what they could to bundle up in the winter, but come summer they passed the day time indoors in a heat induced stupor until early September brought temporary relief from the cycle. 

Most of the children in the orphanage were outside, clustered under a handful of overhangs that provided scraps of shade, but Tom Riddle was not among them. 

Instead he was crouched down on the earth floor of the damp, darkness of the basement that always smelt of mould, dust and rotting timber. His ink black hair was plastered to his forehead by perspiration and his cobalt eyes focused on the small snake just eight inches from his nose. Tom carefully opened the cigar box he had been holding tightly and let loose the terrified little brown mouse inside. Warren Alcott had planted the tiny rodent on his bed s a joke and now dazed from lack of air and fear it was easy prey for the slender serpent. 

"Did you enjoy that?" Tom asked the snake curiously after it had satisfied its hunger with the mouse. The mouse's end did not trouble him. 

"Yes." The snake said in what to Tom sounded like perfectly ordinary English except that the `s' sounds were drawn out into long and soft hisses. "Many thanks, young master." 

Tom was about to reply, but the sound of heavy feet on the rickety wooden stairs caused the boy to stiffen and sent the snake back into the crack in the foundation it had entered the basement through. He recognized the footsteps as those of an adult; one of the other children would have crept along in an attempt to catch him unawares. The boy grabbed the worn book he had brought down with him and opened it to a section he knew well. 

"Riddle? Mrs. Marsden told me I might find you down here. What are you doing?" Came the sharp voice of Mr. Prescott, who ran the orphanage. 

"Reading sir. I like the quiet." Tom held up his book as evidence. 

Prescott craned his neck to get a look at the title and nodded ever so slightly as if to say he was glad Tom was going something productive as well as keeping out of trouble. "Shakespeare. It's rare to find a boy your age enjoying the Bard." 

Tom hid a smile. "I like _Mac Beth_. I'm up to the part where Lady Mac Beth convinces her husband to murder Duncan." 

Prescott almost scowled. Tom knew that the man had been hoping to catch him in a lie. Prescott was a firm believer that children were evil by nature and only the harshest discipline could ever force them to become decent adults. 

Tom often wondered what the man would think if he had the slightest inkling of what really went on among his charges. Or that one of them could speak to snakes. He suspected the man would fall to the floor dead of shock and horror. He almost ached to tell Prescott, but he still had his pride. Tom knew he would have to reveal the source of his knowledge or face another beating. 

"Shakespeare." Prescott mused, his voice jarring Tom from his thoughts. The man almost sounded pleased. "If you are reading him on your own time, then I suppose it is no great wonder this came for you." 

Prescott handed Tom an envelope that looked as though it was made of the heavy parchment used during Mac Beth's time. Tom accepted it cautiously and trailed the man part of the way up the stairs. 

"Smeltings is an excellent school. I trust you will appreciate the opportunity you have been presented with." Prescott told him before opening the door and exiting without glancing back at Tom. It was only then that Tom understood Prescott's pleasure: he was ridding himself of one of the children for most of the year. The boy doubted his absence would ever be mentioned to Prescott's superiors and they would continue to provide him with funds for Tom's care as though he went present, funds Prescott would be able to pocket. 

Tom sat down on the fourth step to study his letter. If he was going to attend this school, he might as well see what they had to say to him. He ran a finger over the wax seal. It was a funny emblem for a school called Smeltings to use: an H surrounded by a badger, a lion, an eagle and a snake. Maybe Smeltings was not the complete name or the H represented something in another language like Latin or Greek. Carefully he broke the seal; he did not receive many letters, and blinked in surprise as his eyes scanned the first few lines. 

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" He read aloud. How had Prescott come up with Smeltings from that? He read on: 

HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY 

__

Headmaster: Armando Dippet  
(Order of Merlin, Second Class, Chf. Warlock, Order of Paracelsus) 

__

Dear Mr. Riddle, 

__

We are pleased to inform you that you have been excepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books are equipment. 

Term begins on September 1. We await your own by no later than July 31. 

Yours sincerely,   
Albus Dumbledore 

Tom found the equipment list along with a third and far less formal note: 

Mr. Riddle, 

In light of your situation please meet with our representative at 3:00 on July 28 outside of your residence. To any non-magical eyes the contents of this letter will appear to say that you have excepted into Smeltings Academy. 

"I'm a wizard." Tom whispered, amazed, after reading the letter for the fourth time. He was still not able to quite believe it. It seemed so fantastic. For a moment he wondered if he had wondered into a fairy story. 

A hissing laugh came from behind him. "What else could you be young one, if you are able to speak to me. Rare are those like yourselves who can converse with my kind. Even amongst magic folk." 

Tom moved down to the bottom step with the letter on his lap and considered the snake's words. "Not many wizards can do this either?" 

"I have known of only one...and he is dead many years. He was feared, and his ability is now feared. I warn you young one: do not advertise your gift." 

Tom shivered. He did not want anything to spoil his chances of escaping the orphanage or the dreary life that most children from the orphanage wandered into upon reaching adulthood. 

"I won't," he promised both to the snake and to himself. 


	2. Introduction to Heritage

****

"Falling Into Darkness"   
_Chapter Two: Introduction to Heritage _

Tom waited on the front step of the orphanage at a quarter to three for whoever it was Hogwarts was sending to meet with him. Hogwarts, it had seemed such a funny name at first, but as his ticket for escaping the orphanage it had acquired a great deal of respect in his mind. He was willing to overlook a silly choice of name if it proved to be the magic school the serpent and the letter claimed it to be.

At precisely three o'clock a woman appeared in front of him. She had not been there before and Tom could not understand where she came from. It was as if the ground simply spat her out.

She was tall and slender, probably somewhere in her early to mid thirties, with flawless coffee coloured skin and soot black hair pulled into a neat chignon. She was dressed quite outlandishly to Tom's eye in forest green robes and a hat that appeared very much like his image of a witch's hat except that it was deep green to match her robes and had a much smaller brim. It amazed him that people brushed by her without pausing to gape at her attire.

"Mr. Riddle, I presume. I am Professor Mulciber, I'll be helping you purchase your school supplies." In spite of her fantastic garb, she had a very no nonsense air about her.

"Thank you, ma'am." Tom said awkwardly, trying not to gawk. "May I ask what it is you teach?"

"Certainly, Mr. Riddle," Mulciber said with a slight nod. "I teach Defence Against the Dark Arts and am the Head of House Slytherin." She appeared to be unfazed by the complete lack of comprehension on Tom's face. 

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Tom echoed after he tried to digest this information and failed. "What is that?"

"How to defend yourself against magical creatures and spells."

"And what is House Slytherin?"

"I believe we ought to be on our way." After she indicated that he should follow her, and as they walked down the street she answered his question. "Hogwarts has four school houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. All students are sorted into one of the houses when they arrive at the school."

"Where are we going?" Tom asked as she led him into a part of London he had never before visited. Of course, to be fair, he had never been to a great many parts of the city.

"Diagon Alley." She said. After many twists and turns they ended up at a grubby little pub called The Leaky Caldron. Tom supposed it was a wizard's pub since everyone inside was dressed similarly to Professor Mulciber. Tom had to step aside to allow a tiny wizard with a beard longer than he was tall dressed in violet silk robes to pass by.

"Hello Isis." The bartender said pleasantly as he dried the inside of a mug with a bright yellow towel. Had he not been wearing a robe, he would have blended perfectly into any other pub. He leaned over the counter to get a good look at Tom. "That boy with you?"

Mulciber inclined her head gently. "Yes. I'm taking Mr. Riddle to do his school shopping." 

"Hmm…doesn't Ogg usually deal with that?" The man asked, then his eyes widened. "Riddle? Melissandre's boy?"

Mulciber smiled exposing even, white teeth. "Indeed. We had best be going." 

Mulciber led him to outside to a plain brick wall, pulled out a wooden wand, and tapped several of the bricks in sequence. A minute later they were walking down a street lined with shops and filled with even more witches and wizards. 

"Gringott's first." She said. "Gringott's is the wizarding bank. It is run by goblins. You will learn about them in your History of Magic class. Professor Binns will be your instructor." 

"Wizard's have banks?" Tom could not help but ask. 

"Just Gringotts." 

Gringotts was a white building that towered over all the others. Tom openly stared at the goblins and Mulciber had to practically drag him along. Once they were inside, one of the goblin looked up at them from the counter as they approached. 

"We are here to see Mr. Riddle's vault." Mulciber produced a tiny gold key and a piece of rolled parchment from a pocket of her robes and handed them to the goblin. 

The goblin scrutinized the paper and the key closely. "Everything is in order. Grushnik will take you to the vault." He gestured to a smaller goblin who escorted them to a cart that reminded Tom of something in a picture he had once seen of a Welsh coal mine. 

"I advise you to hold on." Professor Mulciber whispered as they climbed into the cart.

Tom noted that she griped the handhold tightly and he did the same. He was thankful for her warning when the cart began to move. If he had not been holding on so tightly, he probably would have been thrown out of the cart. He tried to watch where they were going, but it made him dizzy so he closed his eyes until he felt the cart lurched to a stop. 

Grushnik scrambled out of the cart and unlocked a small door set into the stone wall. Greyish green smoke obscured whatever was behind the door for a few seconds, but when it cleared, Tom saw a small pile of coins, mostly silver but with an occasional glint of gold, and a dusty wooden box banded with metal around the corners. Mulciber exited the cart and picked up the box. She stared at it sadly for a moment then turned back to face Tom.

"Your mother left this for you." Mulciber explained passing Tom the box and helping him out of the cart. She directed him to put some of the coins in a small red leather pouch. "If you are careful this should be just enough to take care of your schooling expenses." 

"I've never see coins like these before." Tom noted as he inspected one of the silver coins. 

"The gold are called Galleons, the silver are Sickles. There are seventeen Sickles to a Galleon. The bronze ones are Knuts. Its twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle." Mulciber explained. 

After the climbed back into the cart and returned to the lobby of Gringott's, Tom turned to Mulciber. "My mother left this for me?" Tom raised the box to rub at one of the corners. Black tarnish came off onto his fingers. 

Mulciber paused as though sorting out what to tell him and what to leave unsaid. "I was not aware if you knew about her. Yes, she left this for you." 

"She was a witch? And my father…?" 

"You mother was a witch, from one of the most respected of wizarding families. Your father was a Muggle - a non magical person." Mulciber concluded her mention of Tom's father in a tone that Tom knew meant she would not elaborate further. 

"What was her name?" 

"Melissandre, Melissandre Serthylin. We really had best hurry, its almost four and we still don't have your books, robes, cauldron, wand, and other supplies." 

A frantic hour and a half later, Tom was laden down with purchases and struggling to follow Mulciber to their final stop. 

"Just you wand left." Then she took another of the packages from him. "Don't worry, it won't weigh much." 

Tom smiled weakly as they entered a dusty shop that reminded him more of a museum than a place of business. Mulciber set down the bundles she had been carrying and sat down in the shop's single spindly chair. 

"Good evening." Came a quiet voice that somehow managed to fill every corner of the shop. Tom turned to see a sandy haired man standing just behind him. His eyes reminded Tom of a cat and he wondered if they saw more than they should. "I thought I would be seeing you here, Mr. Riddle. You have your mother's colouring. It seems like only yesterday she was in my shop herself buying her first wand for school. Nine and three quarter inches long, maple, quite trustworthy. An excellent wand for transfiguration. And you, Isis Mulciber! How lovely to see you again. Birch, ten and a half inches, rather swishy." 

Mulciber pulled out her wand for Ollivander's inspection. "Good evening, Mr. Ollivander. Yes. I still have it. Its never failed me." 

Ollivander peered at Mulciber's wand. "Appears in excellent condition. You maintain it well. Not all take such care." He faced Tom again with his eerie eyes. "I remember every wand I've ever sold. Each is unique as is the wizard who uses it. Let us see about your wand now, Mr. Riddle. Which is your wand arm?" 

Tom held out his right hand which Ollivander measured with a tape measure that had silver markings. Then he measured around Tom's head, his shoulders and knees. Finally after Tom was left to wonder if he was being measured for a wand or another set of robes, Ollivander handed him a wand. 

"Try this, oak and unicorn hair. Twelve inches. Very snappy. Just give it a wave." 

Tom waved the wand, but nothing happened and Ollivander pulled it away and replaced it with another. It appeared to be made of the same wood as his mother's box.

"Mahogany and dragon heartstring. Eight inches. Quite firm." 

Still nothing happened. Ollivander appeared to become more excited.

"Hickory and phoenix feather, thirteen inches. Quite swishy." 

Tom was beginning to wonder if they were going to run out of wands when Ollivander disappeared into a back room and returned with a single wand. 

"I just completed this one yesterday. Yew and Phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches. Quite a powerful wand. Try it." 

Tom took the wand and waved it through the air. His fingers felt warm and green sparkles emerged from the end of the wand. Mulciber, who had begun to look rather tired, clapped. 

Tom paid four Galleons for his new wand. It was only with Mulciber's help that he was able to move everything including the sturdy black trunk they bought second hand to store and transport his school things. 

Mulciber walked him back to the orphanage where she gave him confusing directions about "walking between the barrier" at King's Cross Station and handed him a train ticket. After succeeding in dragging his trunk up to his dormitory - where he carefully locked and stored it under his bed as Tom did not trust the other children. The trunk - and the box from his mother - remained in his mind all day.

He waited until after one before heading to the boy's toilet to examine his mother's box in private. It was carved from a solid piece of aged mahogany. As Tom brushed away the dust with his fingers, he noticed a design picked out in a lighter, silvery wood he could not name. It looked like the shield on his Hogwarts letter except that it only featured a snake. Tom carefully opened the box to find a handful of pictures whose subjects moved. After Gringotts and the goblins, Tom had thought nothing could startle him. He was wrong. 

Under the pictures was a neatly folded letter. The handwriting was all loops and swirls and made him sick with longing for the mother he never had a chance to know. The old hatred of his father re-ignited in his heart.

He took a deep breathe and slid along the tiled wall to the floor. He read the letter slowly, determined to savour it.

__

My dear child, 

__

I know Divination is seldom precise, but my every cup of tea concludes with death omens and even the Muggle physicians predictions are grim. They say the birth will be difficult and I know I will not survive it. Do not blame yourself for my death, it was beyond your control. I wanted to me your mother more than anything and I regret only not being able to see you grow into a man.

__

How much or little you know of our family, I cannot say and I ask your pardon if what I next write is already known to you. My family - our family - is an ancient one that descends from Salazar Slytherin himself, though only we are aware of that fact. There are rumours about Slytherin's descendant's and it is best to keep the knowledge of our ancestry secret. 

__

As for your father, he was a Muggle. When he discovered I was a witch, he was horrified and turned his back on me. I was pregnant at the time and he knew of my condition. 

__

I hope you will remember me kindly. 

__

Your Mother,  
Melissandre Serthylin Riddle. 

Tom closed the letter and gently tucked it back into his box. By the time it came for him to board the Hogwart's Express, he had it memorized.


	3. Sorting Issues

"Falling Into Darkness"   
**Chapter Three: Sorting Issues**

"First years!" A burly man with a touch of Scottish accent cried out. Tom negotiated his way over to him, still clutching his mother's letter which he had been reading on the train. 

Aside from finding out what Professor Mulciber meant by 'just walking through the barrier', Tom's trip had been surprisingly uneventful. On the train he had sat near a second year who ignored him after a brief exchange in pleasantries when Tom revealed he was hoping to be placed in Slytherin like this mother. 

"Oh." The boy had said staring at Tom suspiciously. "That's nice." 

"What house are you in?" Tom asked. 

"Gryffindor. I had better go. I promised Paige and Minerva that I would see them on the train ride. Bye." With that he left, leaving Tom by himself. He spent most of the trip reading his mother's letter and trying to imagine what she had been like. 

When he realized that he would be crossing the lake in a boat, Tom tucked the letter into his robe and hoped it would not get wet. He had so little from his mother. 

Tom entered the first boat he came to that had an empty place. When everyone was seated, the burly man with the Scottish accent cried out "Onward!" 

Once they were underway, Tom studied the three others who shared his boat. The first was a pretty girl with neatly braided black hair , bright blue eyes and porcelain pale skin. Next to her was an onyx eyed, dark headed boy whose sallow skin reminded Tom of yellowed newspaper. Finally there was a boy whose face seemed to have been cobbled together from lumps of flesh toned clay in a vague approximation of normal human features. His hair and eyes were both pale brown and dull. At the orphanage, Tom had seen his type numerous times: a brainless but bulky moron who became the fists for the brainier sort he latched onto. 

"I'm Julian Wilkes." The sallow boy said in a bored, superior, voice. 

"Alexandria McKinnon." The girl said. 

"Charlemagne Goyle." Announced the thug. 

"Charlemagne?" McKinnon asked incredulously. 

The thug gave a shrug. "I think my mother got the name out of a book she read in Muggle Studies at school. She thought it sounded manly and impressive." 

Tom could see that Wilkes was fighting to restrain his laughter. Tom had to agree with his sentiment. He remembered from his Muggle schooling just who Charlemagne had been and it seemed absurd that his name had been given to someone like Goyle. 

"Tom Marvolo Riddle." He said as he realized the others were looking at him expectantly. 

"Riddle?" Wilkes asked, one eyebrow rising sharply to form an inverted V. "McKinnon and Goyle's families I've heard about, but I have not heard of a wizarding family called Riddle. You wouldn't be a Muggle-born would you?" He spat out 'Muggle-born' like it was something not mentioned in polite society. 

"I'm a half-blood." 

Wilkes nodded. "I am very pleased to know that I do not have to share a boat ride with a Mudblood." 

"That is rude." McKinnon said indignantly. "You should not use that word." 

"And just what house are you hoping to get into?" Wilkes asked McKinnon. 

"Gryffindor." She stated firmly. 

"Ah, I figured you for that type." He sneered. 

McKinnon refused to be baited. "And what house do you want to be in?" 

"Slytherin," said Wilkes. 

"Slytherin," chimed in Goyle. 

"Slytherin," said Tom thinking of his mother's letter. 

"I'm surrounded." muttered McKinnon. 

The rest of the boat ride passed in uncomfortable silence with many dark looks passing between Wilkes and McKinnon. Not even the sight of the castle could lure them into speaking to one another. Finally they were able to get out of the boats and followed the burly man up a flight of stone steps toward the school itself. He knocked three times on the castle door. 

Almost immediately the door was opened by a wizard with a long auburn beard and blue eyes that twinkled behind a pair of half moon spectacles and seemed to miss nothing as he scanned the nervous faces of the students. 

"The first years, Professor Dumbledore." The burly man told the wizard formally. 

"Thank you, Ogg. I'll take things from here." Dumbledore pulled the door open all the way and gestured for the students to follow him. Tom could not help gawking at the marble staircases and the torches used for lighting. Part of him wondered why they did not use electricity. That fire was dangerous was a lesson drilled into all the children at the orphanage after the papers printed a story about another orphanage burned to the ground. He supposed it was probably magic and the effect was great. 

Dumbledore ushered them into a small room and Tom could hear voices talking from the other side of a closed door. He wondered why they were stopping. 

"Welcome to Hogwarts." Said Dumbledore. "The start-of-term banquet will begin soon, but before you may be seated, you will be sorted into your houses. The sorting is a very important event as while you are at Hogwarts you will eat with your house, sleep in your house dormitory, have classes with your house and spend free time in your house common room. The four school houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has a noble history that you may look up in the library and has produced exemplary wizards and witches. Once you are sorted you bear a certain responsibility toward your house. Your successes earn points for your house, while infractions of the rules will result in a loss of points. At the conclusion of the year the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor as you will see. I hope each of you will be a credit to whatever house you are placed into." 

Tom swallowed hard. He wondered how they decided. Professor Mulciber had said the decision was based on personality traits, but how did they determine that? 

"The Sorting Ceremony will commence in a few minutes before the rest of the school. I suggest you prepare yourselves. I'll return when we are ready for you." Dumbledore left them to their anxiety. 

"How do they decide what house we are to be put in?" He asked Wilkes. 

Wilkes looked edgy and seemed to have turned a peculiar and unflattering shade of olive green. "I think they put a drop of a special potion on your hand and it turns the color of the house you are supposed to be in. Green for Slytherin, blue for Ravenclaw, red for Gryffindor or yellow for Hufflepuff." 

"I heard," said Goyle, "that they let the house ghosts walk through you and decide." 

"House ghost?" Tom repeated. Wilkes rolled his eyes, but Dumbledore had returned and he did not explain anything to Tom. 

"Come now, we are ready to start the Sorting Ceremony. Please form a line, single file, and follow me." 

Tom ended up behind Wilkes and in front of Goyle as he stepped into the Great Hall. It was a spectacular place lit by thousands of candles. He saw a pearly white man, he could just see through him and supposed he was one of the ghosts Goyle had mentioned. He was talking to a student at one of the tables. 

There were five tables in all, one for each house and one for the staff. Tom found his eyes drawn to the Slytherin table. Thanks to Wilkes he was able to recognize the green banner with the silver snake. He smiled a bit seeing the snake. 

Professor Dumbledore had quietly placed a four legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool, he reverently placed a pointed wizards hat that had definitely seen better days. Even from where he stood he could see the patches and the stains. Just as he was wondering what the hat was for, a rip opened like a mouth and the hat began to sing. 

_ "I may not look like much,  
From the outside that's all you see  
But I'll bet if you looked a century  
You'd never find a smarter hat than me.  
For a thousand years I've  
Determined where students should be  
So cast your fears aside  
And place your trust in me!  
You might belong in noble Gryffindor  
Where they are brave and loyal  
Or with the good Hufflepuffs  
Who are true and unafraid of toil  
Or in wise Ravenclaw  
Where the cleverest find their friends  
Perhaps you belong with the cunning Slytherins  
Whose ambition knows no ends!  
Just place me on your head  
There is nothing in you I cannot see  
So take a deep breathe and relax while  
I'll decide where ought to be!_

The hall burst into applause at the hat concluded it's song and bowed to each of the four tables. 

"When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and place the hat on your head to be sorted." Dumbledore said. He unrolled a long piece of parchment and scanned the first name. "Atkins, Richard!" 

A pudgy boy hurried from the line and climbed onto the stool. He placed that hat on his head. A few seconds later the hat shouted out a house. 

"HUFFLEPUFF!" 

The Hufflepuff table began to clap and cheer. 

"Avery, Midas!" 

"SLYTHERIN!" 

Tom watched Avery join the smiling Slytherins, and Goyle a few minutes after him, and prayed he would soon be amongst them as well, but doubt was creeping into him. He paid little attention to the Sorting until a familiar name was called out: 

"Malfoy, Clarissa!" 

"SLYTHERIN!" 

"McKinnon, Alexandria!"

"GRYFFINDOR!" 

The Gryffindor table erupted as McKinnon walked over to them smiling. Tom heard Wilkes sigh in relief and knew he was glad that he would not have her in his house if he was placed into Slytherin as he hoped he would be. Tom listened to the last names, they were moving further down the alphabet. Soon Dumbledore would get to his name. 

"Prewitt, Maxwell!" 

"RAVENCLAW!" 

"Almost there." Tom whispered. 

"Potter, Patrick!" 

"GRYFFINDOR!" 

"Riddle, Tom!" 

Tom walked over and placed the Sorting Hat on his head as he sat down. All he could see the black inside of the cat. 

"Hmm," said a voice in his ear. "You are a tough one. A good mind, no doubt there, a great deal of power, oh yes." 

Slytherin, Tom thought, just say Slytherin. 

"Slytherin? You'd be good in Gryffindor, you know, but if you are sure...SLYTHERIN!" 

The Slytherin table applauded and Tom set the hat back down on the stool. As he sat down, the next student (Ryder, Allison) was sorted into Ravenclaw. 

"Riddle? I'm Clarissa Malfoy." A pretty girl with hard pewter gray eyes stuck out her hand with an air of reservation like Wilkes had displayed on the boat ride. 

"Tom Riddle, its a pleasure. My mother was in Slytherin, you know." Tom said. 

"Your mother? Really?" Clarissa asked, considerably warmer in tone and demeanor now. "What was her maiden name?" 

"Reihlive, Alicia Reihlive. I have my grandfather, Marvolo's name for my middle name." 

"The Reihlives were a very respected pure blood family. I heard about your mother. Terrible tragedy." Clarissa said in a voice that made Tom wonder just what she meant by 'terrible tragedy'. 

Tom thought of the letter again and felt white hot anger for the man who abandoned his pregnant mother, the man whose name he was forced to carry. "A mistake I do not intend to repeat." 

"Looks like your friend is about to be Sorted. I saw the two of you talking earlier." Clarissa said nodding in the direction of the Sorting Hat which was then being picked up by Julian Wilkes. Tom held his breathe as Wilkes sat down on the stool. 

"SLYTHERIN!" 

Julian glided over to the Slytherin table and sat down next to Tom. "I knew I'd be a Slytherin." 

Tom grinned in response.


	4. Bloodlines

"Falling Into Darkness"   
**Chapter Four: Bloodlines**

_ My dear child,_

_ I know Divination is seldom precise, but my every cup of tea concludes with death omens and even the Muggle physicians are grim. They say the birth will be difficult. I know I will not survive it. Do not blame yourself for my death, it was beyond your control._

_ How much or little you know of our family, I cannot say and I ask your pardon if what I next write is already known to you. My family, our family, is an ancient one that traces our lineage back to Salazar Slytherin himself, though only we are aware of that fact. There are rumors about Slytherin's descendant's you see and it is best to keep the knowledge of our ancestry within the family. Your grandfather Marvolo Reihlive, was a noted alchemist. He was one of only two men to create the Sorcerer's Stone, but another discovered what he had done and tried to steal it. Your grandfather, the thief and the stone were all destroyed._

_ As for your father, he was a Muggle. When he discovered I was a witch, he was horrified and turned his back on me. I was pregnant at the time and he knew of my condition._

_ I hope you will remember me kindly.  
Your Mother,  
Alicia Reihlive._

Tom gently placed the letter his mother bad written between the pages of his Charms textbook along with one of the few pictures he had of her. He set the book on the table and surveyed the library for a moment before his eyes chanced upon the Restricted section. 

"What's over there?" He asked the reedy librarian Mr. Pietas. 

"That is the restricted section. You must have a signed note from a Professor to even browse the books in there." 

Tom's brow wrinkled. "Why is it restricted." 

"A lot of it is stuff that if not done exactly right results in loads of trouble. It is easier simply to restrict access to that material." 

Tom nodded, not certain if he believed the man. "I need to find books on Salazar Slytherin." 

"Have you tried _Hogwarts, A History?_" 

"Yes...but it is vague." 

Pietas laughed. "The founders lived a thousand years ago and were more concerned with the school than themselves but I'll show you what we have. You also might want to ask Professor Binns." 

Tom winced at the concept of voluntarily approaching that droning, dull old man, but he soon had to consider it an option. Information on Slytherin beyond what he already knew was scanty. He sat down at a table as he leafed through the index of a likely seeming book. 

Slytherin, Salazar: 12, 78-83, 99, 111, 123, 125-131, 156-9 

Tom flipped to page 12, a brief mention of Slytherin as the founder of Hogwarts. Pages 78-83 described what was known of the founder's initial meetings and the origin of Hogwarts. Tom drummed his fingers on the table. Page 99 told of the Sorting Hat's origins. 

"The Sorting Hat belonged to Gryffindor?" Tom asked Pietas in astonishment. While that hat looked old he would never have guessed it was that ancient. 

"Indeed it did. He wore it up until he decided it could be put to a better use." 

"Incredible." Tom muttered as he returned to the book. 111 mentioned a fight between Gryffindor and Slytherin over the inclusion of Muggle-born students that nearly resulted in a duel. Apparently one of Slytherin's earliest students, before Hogwarts, had been Muggle-born and had betrayed him. In those days magic was feared and while Slytherin was a powerful wizard, even he had difficulty when he wand was broken in the melee. As for the traitorous student, he suffered the fate the mob had intended for Slytherin. When Gryffindor told him that he would not only permit, but encourage Muggle-born students, Slytherin had ranted on their evil for hours to his astonished colleague before his own temper flared at the insults paid to his students. Ravenclaw finally convinced them to except an alternate solution to their problem, permitting Slytherin to keep his house free of Muggle-borns, but not neither he nor Gryffindor was very pleased and their friendship was irreversibly ruined. 

He moved ahead to 123 which briefly mentioned something called the Chamber of Secrets. 

"Embittered by the death of his wife, Slytherin proceeded to alienate the other founders, including Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff who had tolerated his attitude toward Muggle-borns. In one of the news documents written by the founder's themselves is a letter from Helga Hufflepuff to a former student that expresses her belief that Slytherin would eventually change his mind. Finally, Slytherin went too far when he cursed two Muggle-born Gryffindors and incurred the wrath of the others. Slytherin left the school that same day leaving behind his bewildered family and a letter purportedly stating that he had constructed a secret chamber in the school which could be opened by his true heir alone. When the Heir of Slytherin, opened the chamber, the terror within would be released and would cleanse Hogwarts of those not of wizarding blood. This is of course speculation as the neither the actual letter nor any known copy survives and it is only mentioned by Slytherin's grandson who sited the Chamber of Secrets as the reason for the prejudice against his family and their decision to alter their surname. Perire Slytherin is his last known descendant of Slytherin, scholars and historians have regrettably lost track of all of his heirs." 

Tom smiled remembering his mother's letter. So this was why she had urged secrecy. He trusted her judgment with regard to his heritage, and relished his secret. Not even Julian or Clarissa could lay claim to descent from the founder of their house. 

"According to tradition, Slytherin's heir would share his gift: parseltongue. No recorded parselmouth aside from Slytherin has ever been discovered and many consign that belief to the real of speculation and superstition." 

When Tom headed back to the Slytherin Common room he was too busy thinking about what he had read to watch where he was going. Thus he did not notice Alexandria McKinnon until he knocked her over, causing her to drop the books she had been carrying. 

"Watch where you are going!" McKinnon huffed as she bent to pick up her books. 

"Sorry." Mumbled Tom in a sarcastic tone. He picked up not only his own things but a blue book belonging to McKinnon. 

"You have my book." McKinnon said as he stared to walk away. She had her wand ready. A pair of fifth year Ravenclaws nearby watched them with interest. 

"I do? _Elementary Level Charms_? I believe you are straining yourself, but there is not a lower level book is there?" Tom sneered. 

"_Accio_ book!" McKinnon said calmly. The book returned to her. 

The two Ravenclaw's clapped and laughed at Tom's stunned expression. 

"Good job! The summoning charm isn't taught to first years." One of the Ravenclaws complimented McKinnon. 

"An excellent tactic." 

"The Slytherins are overconfident." One Ravenclaw noted staring coldly at Tom. 

"You should have heard them crowing about their Quidditch team, but it was Ravenclaw who won the Quidditch cup last year!" The second said. 

Tom shot each of them his best withering glance, but as he was outnumbered, he opted to retreat and return to the Slytherin common room. Anger made his eyes flash and face redden. He had been humiliated by a juvenile spell, a charm, not even a curse! Tom loathed being humiliated and promised himself that he would have the last laugh. The other children at the orphanage had learned of his knack of exactly revenge, so would those here. 


	5. House Rivalries

"Falling Into Darkness"   
**Chapter Four: Bloodlines**

_ My dear child,_

_ I know Divination is seldom precise, but my every cup of tea concludes with death omens and even the Muggle physicians are grim. They say the birth will be difficult. I know I will not survive it. Do not blame yourself for my death, it was beyond your control._

_ How much or little you know of our family, I cannot say and I ask your pardon if what I next write is already known to you. My family, our family, is an ancient one that traces our lineage back to Salazar Slytherin himself, though only we are aware of that fact. There are rumors about Slytherin's descendant's you see and it is best to keep the knowledge of our ancestry within the family. Your grandfather Marvolo Reihlive, was a noted alchemist. He was one of only two men to create the Sorcerer's Stone, but another discovered what he had done and tried to steal it. Your grandfather, the thief and the stone were all destroyed._

_ As for your father, he was a Muggle. When he discovered I was a witch, he was horrified and turned his back on me. I was pregnant at the time and he knew of my condition._

_ I hope you will remember me kindly.  
Your Mother,  
Alicia Reihlive._

Tom gently placed the letter his mother bad written between the pages of his Charms textbook along with one of the few pictures he had of her. He set the book on the table and surveyed the library for a moment before his eyes chanced upon the Restricted section. 

"What's over there?" He asked the reedy librarian Mr. Pietas. 

"That is the restricted section. You must have a signed note from a Professor to even browse the books in there." 

Tom's brow wrinkled. "Why is it restricted." 

"A lot of it is stuff that if not done exactly right results in loads of trouble. It is easier simply to restrict access to that material." 

Tom nodded, not certain if he believed the man. "I need to find books on Salazar Slytherin." 

"Have you tried _Hogwarts, A History?_" 

"Yes...but it is vague." 

Pietas laughed. "The founders lived a thousand years ago and were more concerned with the school than themselves but I'll show you what we have. You also might want to ask Professor Binns." 

Tom winced at the concept of voluntarily approaching that droning, dull old man, but he soon had to consider it an option. Information on Slytherin beyond what he already knew was scanty. He sat down at a table as he leafed through the index of a likely seeming book. 

Slytherin, Salazar: 12, 78-83, 99, 111, 123, 125-131, 156-9 

Tom flipped to page 12, a brief mention of Slytherin as the founder of Hogwarts. Pages 78-83 described what was known of the founder's initial meetings and the origin of Hogwarts. Tom drummed his fingers on the table. Page 99 told of the Sorting Hat's origins. 

"The Sorting Hat belonged to Gryffindor?" Tom asked Pietas in astonishment. While that hat looked old he would never have guessed it was that ancient. 

"Indeed it did. He wore it up until he decided it could be put to a better use." 

"Incredible." Tom muttered as he returned to the book. 111 mentioned a fight between Gryffindor and Slytherin over the inclusion of Muggle-born students that nearly resulted in a duel. Apparently one of Slytherin's earliest students, before Hogwarts, had been Muggle-born and had betrayed him. In those days magic was feared and while Slytherin was a powerful wizard, even he had difficulty when he wand was broken in the melee. As for the traitorous student, he suffered the fate the mob had intended for Slytherin. When Gryffindor told him that he would not only permit, but encourage Muggle-born students, Slytherin had ranted on their evil for hours to his astonished colleague before his own temper flared at the insults paid to his students. Ravenclaw finally convinced them to except an alternate solution to their problem, permitting Slytherin to keep his house free of Muggle-borns, but not neither he nor Gryffindor was very pleased and their friendship was irreversibly ruined. 

He moved ahead to 123 which briefly mentioned something called the Chamber of Secrets. 

"Embittered by the death of his wife, Slytherin proceeded to alienate the other founders, including Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff who had tolerated his attitude toward Muggle-borns. In one of the news documents written by the founder's themselves is a letter from Helga Hufflepuff to a former student that expresses her belief that Slytherin would eventually change his mind. Finally, Slytherin went too far when he cursed two Muggle-born Gryffindors and incurred the wrath of the others. Slytherin left the school that same day leaving behind his bewildered family and a letter purportedly stating that he had constructed a secret chamber in the school which could be opened by his true heir alone. When the Heir of Slytherin, opened the chamber, the terror within would be released and would cleanse Hogwarts of those not of wizarding blood. This is of course speculation as the neither the actual letter nor any known copy survives and it is only mentioned by Slytherin's grandson who sited the Chamber of Secrets as the reason for the prejudice against his family and their decision to alter their surname. Perire Slytherin is his last known descendant of Slytherin, scholars and historians have regrettably lost track of all of his heirs." 

Tom smiled remembering his mother's letter. So this was why she had urged secrecy. He trusted her judgment with regard to his heritage, and relished his secret. Not even Julian or Clarissa could lay claim to descent from the founder of their house. 

"According to tradition, Slytherin's heir would share his gift: parseltongue. No recorded parselmouth aside from Slytherin has ever been discovered and many consign that belief to the real of speculation and superstition." 

When Tom headed back to the Slytherin Common room he was too busy thinking about what he had read to watch where he was going. Thus he did not notice Alexandria McKinnon until he knocked her over, causing her to drop the books she had been carrying. 

"Watch where you are going!" McKinnon huffed as she bent to pick up her books. 

"Sorry." Mumbled Tom in a sarcastic tone. He picked up not only his own things but a blue book belonging to McKinnon. 

"You have my book." McKinnon said as he stared to walk away. She had her wand ready. A pair of fifth year Ravenclaws nearby watched them with interest. 

"I do? _Elementary Level Charms_? I believe you are straining yourself, but there is not a lower level book is there?" Tom sneered. 

"_Accio_ book!" McKinnon said calmly. The book returned to her. 

The two Ravenclaw's clapped and laughed at Tom's stunned expression. 

"Good job! The summoning charm isn't taught to first years." One of the Ravenclaws complimented McKinnon. 

"An excellent tactic." 

"The Slytherins are overconfident." One Ravenclaw noted staring coldly at Tom. 

"You should have heard them crowing about their Quidditch team, but it was Ravenclaw who won the Quidditch cup last year!" The second said. 

Tom shot each of them his best withering glance, but as he was outnumbered, he opted to retreat and return to the Slytherin common room. Anger made his eyes flash and face redden. He had been humiliated by a juvenile spell, a charm, not even a curse! Tom loathed being humiliated and promised himself that he would have the last laugh. The other children at the orphanage had learned of his knack of exactly revenge, so would those here. 


	6. Past & Present Tense

"Falling Into Darkness"   
**Chapter Six: Past & Present Tense**

Tom stared out the window. Clarissa had chided him earlier about his reluctance to fly, but he had been certain that flying lessons would prove to be a disaster. 

He was right. 

First of all, he turned Slytherin green whenever his broom rose more than five feet off the ground and the thing seemed to jerk back and forth like a crazy thing. He switched brooms twice to no avail. 

To make matters worse, Clarissa effortlessly glided to a halt beside Tom and surveyed him with her cool gray eyes. "Trouble, Riddle?" 

"I think I won't be making the house Quidditch team." 

Clarissa's lips twitched and she let out a brief snort of amusement. 

"Broom not working Riddle." Another voice inquired, Tom was less than happy to notice the practiced ease with which McKinnon handled her broom. "Maybe you should change it." 

"Wait, he already has. Twice. Problem must be with the flyer, not the broom." Another Gryffindor quipped. 

"Do I detect a bit of green on your robes, McKinnon. Really I thought Gryffindor's colors were red and gold, not green." Clarissa drawled. 

"You must be seeing things, Malfoy. The only one wearing green is Riddle and its on his face, not his robes." McKinnon retorted before flying off. 

Clarissa watched McKinnon with a poisonous expression on her face. "I hope she falls off the broom." 

Tom laughed in spite of his queasy stomach. Clarissa did not get her wish, the only person to fall off a broom that day was Tom. He brushed himself off and tried to straighten his rumpled and grass stained robes while the Gryffindors giggled and whispered above him. Even his own house did nothing to help, they faced the Gryffindors stonily until Madam Twig got the classes attention by threatening detentions for everyone unless they settled down immediately. 

After storming into the common room after class, Tom settled into an arm chair and began reading when a pock faced fourth year came up to him. 

"Are you Tom Riddle?" The boy asked with disdain in his voice, surveying the boy as though he were a new and disgusting variety of insect. 

"Possibly, and you are..." 

"Marcus Prewitt." 

"Well, Mr. Prewitt, why do you want to know who I am." 

"I was curious about something I heard concerning your grandfather." 

Tom raised an eyebrow, he knew very little about his mother's family and was eager to learn more, and invited Marcus to continue. Marcus pulled out a clipping from the Daily Prophet out of his pocket, an old one to judge by the yellow of the paper, and gingerly straightened it out before handing it to Tom. 

** POTIONS EXPERT FOUND MURDERED!**

Marvolo Reihlive, famed alchemist and world renowned potions expert was found dead in his laboratory early Tuesday morning. According to a Ministry statement, Mr. Reihlive was a victim of the Killing Curse. Additionally, his laboratory had been raided and certain items appeared to be missing. 

The authorities are silent on the matter of motive at this time or whether Grindelwald could be involved. However, sources who were close to Reihlive claim that he was well on his way to duplicating Nicholas Flamel's feat and creating a second Sorceror's Stone. Mr Reihlive's widow, Maiya Reihlive dismisses such claims as "utter nonsense" and suggests the culprit was in reality after some of the more sensitive ingredients Mr. Reihlive kept in his possession under a special ministry license. 

"Why show this to me?" Tom asked, puzzled. 

Prewitt sighed like a person constantly having to suffer fools. "Rumor has it the thief never got Reihlive's notes on the stone." 

"So." 

"So, his only relative was his daughter. Your mother." 

Tom laughed bitterly. "And you think I know where the notes are." 

Marcus shrugged. 

"I hate to disillusion you but my mother died shortly after I was born. I have nothing from my mother but a few pictures. No notes." 

Marcus smiled. "If you should happen to locate your grandfather's notes, I know some people who would be quiet helpful in finishing Reihlive's work. Your help would be...suitably rewarded." 

Tom watched him leave. He fingered the pages of his book. "If I find those notes, it will be you who comes begging to me, Prewitt. Not the other way around. I can see you myself that my reward for providing the notes would be meager compared to what you would reap. If I find them, I will dictate their use." Tom smiled at the notion of the arrogant pale faced boy bowing to him with respect and fear in his cold eyes. He stretched out and continued reading, he was the top of every class (except flying) and wanted to stay that way. 


	7. Research Trouble

** "Falling Into Darkness" **   
**Chapter S****even: Research Trouble**

Tom had the impression that his Transfiguration teacher did not like him. Maybe it was on account of an incident his first Christmas at Hogwarts when Dumbledore found him poring over articles on Grindlewald, or perhaps it was due to his association with Wilkes and Malfoy. Clarissa had already received three detentions for her use of the word Mudblood by Christmas. Whatever the cause, Professor Dumbledore's expression always seemed to harden whenever Tom came into his presence. The wizard's bright blue eyes tracked Tom as though he expected the boy to pull out a gun and start shooting like Al Capone's men did in the old newsreels that were sometimes attached to American films. The Slytherin boy did not understand why he was singled out. Although Dumbledore was head of Gryffindor, he did not discriminate against members of the other houses, so the professor disliking him on account of his a Slytherin had to be ruled out. Tom behaved in class and received excellent marks. There was no reason for Dumbledore to view him as an impending disaster. 

Despite Dumbledore's attitude toward his student, Tom enjoyed Transfiguration. It was not his favorite class - that was Defense Against the Dark Arts - but he appreciated the challenges the subject presented. He also savored the idea of turning some of the others at the orphanage into frogs, until Clarissa shot down that idea when he mentioned it to her one evening in the common room. 

"We aren't permitted to use magic over the summer until after we leave Hogwarts for good." Clarissa informed her friend when he told her how he planned to make his childhood tormenters croak and hop around. 

"Why aren't we allowed to do magic over the summer? Do they expect us to forget everything we learned at school" Tom demanded. 

"They don't trust us. Back when students could use magic over the summer, they had to employ twice the number of Obliviators to deal with Mudbloods who showed off to Muggles. Because of them we all have to suffer" 

" I'd be careful," Tom muttered. "I'd use memory charms when I was done. What are Obliviators?" 

"Obliviators put memory charms on Muggles who witness Magic." The blond girl explained with exaggerated patience. "Members of the Accidental Magical Reversal Squad." 

"Oh." 

"Besides," Clarissa reminded Tom, "we won't learn human transfiguration until out fifth year." 

Tom shrugged. "I'm certain I could manage it if I put my mind to it." 

"But they would catch you. They have spells that monitor magical activity you know. If you receive enough notices, they will expel you from Hogwarts and break you wand. Besides, in order to learn how to turn people into frogs by summer, you'd have to cut back your research," Clarissa teased. 

Tom froze at her last comment. Then he shook himself and with a growl, grabbed Clarissa by the arm. She tried to wiggle free, but Tom's grip was vise like and his fingernails dug through Clarissa's gray sweater into her arm. The girl bit her lip to keep from whimpering in pain and shot Tom a look of mixed shot, anger, and pain. 

"Tom you're hurting me," Clarissa told the boy in a deadly whisper. She tried to snake her other hand over to pull her wand out of her pocket. 

"What do you know about my research?" Tom demanded as though she had never spoken. 

"You are hardly subtle." Clarissa retorted, her face flushed with anger. She jerked her left arm forward and was able to reach her pocketed wand and bring it to bear against Tom. 

"Don't bother," Tom said as he pointed his own wand at her. "You know I'm better with hexes than you are. Do you fancy having to find a prefect to take a jinx off you while coughing up slugs?" 

Clarissa glared daggers at him. "Threaten me again Riddle and I will find a way to get you. Malfoys always achieve revenge." Clarissa snarled before retreating to her dormitory. 

Tom watched her go, then set off for the library. Mr. Pietas suggested an interesting book last night, but had not checked it out. He resolved to remedy that lapse in judgment. 


End file.
